Dark Avenger
by Angelfirenze
Summary: Dexter reeled. "What? You're - God isn't supposed to - God doesn't do what I do! God has no place in what I do!" Dexter, S4, post-finale/AtS, S2 crossover, circa-Reunion.
1. Dark Avenger

**Dark Avenger**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** Joss Whedon, Kevin Smith, and Jeff Lindsay own the characters, Showtime owns the execution of the show, Dexter's plot. Nirvana. "Heart-Shaped Box.". DGC, 1993. Transcript of 'Reunion' from

**Summary:** Dexter reeled. "What? You're - God isn't supposed to - God doesn't do what I do! God has no place in what I do!"

Dexter screamed, then, as a lance of fire slashed his face and he fell to his knees.

_You dare presume God's place in the works of life and the world? You dare presume His role for you or anyone else?_

**Notes:** These exact words from Wikipedia from Holland Manners' page, oddly on a philosophical seeming bent, inspired part of this story: _Ironically, before his death, Holland pleaded with Angel to save him, but, in a form of_ poetic justice_, he had succeeded in_ corrupting Angel so thoroughly _that he instead helped Darla and Dru kill him and the other employees._

**Timeline:** AtS, ep. 2.10; Dexter, ep. 4.12; post-_Dogma_.

Dark Avenger

_...I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn back..._

Dexter blinked, on guard at the suspiciously bright light surrounding him. "Where am I? Who are you - where am I?" he yelled, now certain he was dreaming.

_The Lord, Our God, hath seen your struggle to do what is right and rise above that which inside you. This darkness, you have directed to help instead of harm, you are an acolyte and an answer to prayers as yet unheard by lesser beings._

Dexter froze, struggling to understand. "But I don't even believe in God."

_The Lord, Our God, believes in you. Shall you not endeavor to rid the world of the wickedness that preys upon it?_

Dexter could only blink. "The Code. My Code isn't for - "

_You have acknowledged that you have saved lives, have you not? You have acknowledged that you cannot harm the innocent, nor can you stand aside to allow others to do so._

Dexter wanted to step back to slide down the wall, but there _was_ no wall, as far as he could see, nor a floor. And yet he wasn't falling.

"No one believes in me," he muttered, thinking of Rita's literal bloodbath. His _son_, his baby crying in her blood. His heart clenched.

_This is untrue. There are many who believe in you, though they yet not know it._

Before him, Cody and Astor's smiling faces, Cody's anger at Dexter's honor being questioned, Deb, Vince, Angel, they all flashed before him.

Pointedly, Rita's smiling face on their wedding day, even as Dexter's bloodied, broken arm dripped down her back.

Finally, long ago, during the search for the Bay Harbor Butcher, a comic book artist had taken up his pen and detailed Dexter _taking out the trash_.

How had Rita not minded the blood on her dress? How did she not mind the blood in her life? How would Deb react to -

"My son! I need to get back to my son! My daughter and my sons, their mother - "

_All will be well, my son,_ the voice was saying now. _They are cared for, their wounds cleaned and soothed._

Then Dexter became angry, "Then what the hell about mine? What the hell about Brian's? Why couldn't you do anything for - WHY?"

Harry's face flashed before his eyes and Dexter found himself biting back sobs even as tears fell down his face.

_It was not your brother's lot to avenge or protect. His mind was too damaged, his soul too damned. You, yourself, showed him his only salvation. His only mercy._

Dexter sneered, though it was at himself. "Salvation, yeah. If you're - whoever...you say you're _The Lord, Our God_, so why was the only salvation I could give him a ticket to Hell?"

A breathy sort of wind flew past him and Dexter blinked as his face turned cold from his tears drying rapidly. He saw the face of a young man he didn't know anything about, but who was filled with great pain.

_You are not the only one to ask that question. You are merely the soonest. Dexter Moser, Dexter Morgan, You have been charged with a Holy Crusade. You are to be a Champion in assistance to your brother Champion._

_He is currently falling in his faith, fickle as yours is hidden in your darkness. Carry out this mission, in blood and in tears, so he will not bear yet more blood on his hands._

Dexter reeled. "What? You're - God isn't supposed to - God doesn't do what I do! God has no place in what I do!"

Dexter screamed, then, as a lance of fire slashed his face and he fell to his knees.

_You dare presume God's place in the works of life and the world? You dare presume His role for you or anyone else?_

"I..." Dexter took his hand away from his face and saw his hand was covered in blood. He blinked and suddenly both of his hands were dripping with it and he tried to scramble backward, trying to get down low enough to wipe them, yet to get away from the enormous puddle forming as his victims' faces flashed behind his eyes.

"That's just it!" he yelled, horror suffusing him as it had in that hotel room covered in the blood of Brian's most recent victims. In the end, he ended up on his back again, staring upward into endless whiteness.

"I've never believed," he whispered, blinking again as tears came once more. "We weren't - we didn't go to church, to Mass, to synagogue, none of it - Harry didn't teach Deb or I about...of...You?"

_Harry was imperfect, as are you. He meddled, yes, but it was with your best interests at heart. He did not want innocent blood on your hands, if there was to be any. You know this. There is a place for virtuous non-believers, you now know this, as well."_

"Limbo." The word left Dexter's words before he could think it and his eyes widened. "My darkness killed him. He - " Dexter tried to sit up, something coming to him. "I thought suicides went to Hell, no questions?"

_...Forever in debt to your price, as advised..._

_Yes. Harry Morgan would have gone to Limbo had he not taken his life in his own hands. That was not his right. He decided, however, and so his fate was decided for him. He gave up all claims to salvation that day. You were not the cause of his fate, but he, himself. You refused, you have accepted your lot and sought to use it for the safety of others._

Dexter felt something cold and hard in his right hand, then, and looked downward to see a sword now in it with bright, white-hot flames dancing all along the blade.

"I don't understand," he said, blinking again, this time from the brightness of the light in the flames.

_You are the Angel of Death, Dexter Morgan. It is time you took up your mantle in ways beyond your father's earthly devising._

"You're jo - " Dexter swallowed his words at the last moment, instead asking, "Astor, Cody - Harrison - what's going to happen to them?"

_Debra Morgan will care for them during your missions. You will continue in your role as their father otherwise. They need you and so you will stay with them. Teach them to avoid your wrath, to leave their souls clean._

"But Harrison - " Dexter took another deep breath, his stomach clenching as he remembered Harrison's cries from the floor, surrounded in Rita's blood and the water.

_The water has washed him clean of the evil that took your wife from you, the blood of Christ has replaced hers and given him purpose beyond death and destruction._

_You, as you already knew, will continue to see to that. Your elder children will survive, they did not witness their mother's demise. They will survive because they have their father and the sister of their father, as you and your sister had Harry later on._

_There is but one more question to be asked: Dexter Morgan, do you accept the Holy charge being afforded you - to destroy the evil that threatens to further erode the soul of your brother Champion, to be the Angel of Death where the Angel of Protection fails._

Dexter's head dropped and he stared at his killing clothes now upon him, the sword gleaming, burning in his hand at his side.

He's never been one to believe in God, but - if what God said was true - if God believes in him, in what he does, then perhaps this is a way to assuage the pain of losing Rita, of seeing Astor and Cody's grief-stricken faces and not knowing how to comfort them. Of wondering if Harrison would turn into another ugly copy of his carbon demo - no, **God** said he wasn't a demon.

He still wasn't sure what he was. Perhaps this would be a way to finally find out. He'd refused to be the portent of evil his brother assumed he was and had killed Miguel Prado to prevent others like the innocent Ellen Wolf from suffering the same undeserved fate.

The misogynistic used car salesman.

Alex Timmons.

First Nurse.

Paul. Paul Bennett.

Lila Tournay.

Miguel Prado.

Arthur Mitchell.

Dexter took another steadying breath. "How do I know this isn't just a dream of retribution gained because I destroyed the man who killed my wife? Of all the people who've come after my own friends and family?"

_You will not know until it is time. That is not the point._

Dexter breathed, nodding his head in slight irritation. He had a feeling about as much.

Santos Jimenez.

Dexter blinked once more, completely blindsided by the memory of sitting in Jimenez's blood after dismembering him.

**"Did you have to chop her up into pieces and leave two little boys sitting in a pool of their mother's blood?"**

Dexter looked upward, now genuinely afraid.

_Be not afraid, My son, for I am with you in all you endeavor and endure._

He breathed again and forced himself to close his eyes, bathing in the light as he would the Miami sun.

"If God is with me," he whispered to himself, praying for the first time in his life. Repeating his own words. "Then He's in this room tonight. Amen"

The sword in his hand hummed and warmed, and Dexter opened his eyes, bringing it up to take the hilt in both his hands. He stared at the blade, imagining the blood that would be coming dripping from the blade. It, of course, wasn't difficult.

"I am an Angel of Death. This charge I shall take in protection and salvation of others. I shall be a Dark Avenger and assist my brother and sister Champions."

He didn't know where the words were coming from, but felt something inside that he hadn't in as long as he could remember. Something other than emptiness.

"If God awaits, then I allow Him into my heart. Enter unto, O God."

The light around him seemed to solidify and flash so that Dexter found himself in the darkness on the couch in his old apartment, now Debra's, with Harrison splayed across his chest, sleeping calmly for the first time in weeks. Cody and Astor were on the floor over by the bookshelf, themselves at peace for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Don't worry, little ones," Dexter whispered, reaching down and fingering the sword in its hilt and scabbard that was safely hidden beneath the couch he and Harrison lay upon, the entire weapon humming simply at his touch. "Daddy's got a little mission God wants him to take care of in L.A. and then he'll be home again. I'll never be gone for long."

He reached down and stroked Harrison's sparse hair, just now growing in. "Daddy'll never be gone for long."

_...Cut myself an angel hair and baby's breath..._

"For God's sake, help us." Dexter watched, admittedly intrigued, as Lilah - he hated that she shared his last name, Harry's blood because that meant it was Debra's, as well. Even with what he knew about his father's flaws, the idea that this amoral...disease...was to be spared his wrath made his teeth itch in the way that blood did when he thought about his mother.

But Wesley was more important than his petty dislikes. Wesley had a purpose to fulfill and Lilah, in all her vicious backstabbing and refusal to admit that her reasons for everything she did meant more than she did, was going to help him get there in the long run. Just like Darla.

It was strange, what he knew now, and how simply it all came to him. Apparently, Angel was the same way, as troubled and deadened as they both were at times.

Dexter was letting his mind wander.

He had a task to fulfill. The Powers, despite being an entire choir of angels, had somehow managed to fail in dissuading Angel from this melee. That didn't mean Dexter didn't have his own job to do. He just had to make sure Angel never saw him. That part was easy, he'd been trained in it all his life.

**Rule Number One: Don't Get Caught.**

The older lawyer who reminded him so much of Brian was suddenly so craven. If Dexter had been less of a cynic (he found that even as an angel, it was hard to let go of some of his more deeply held tenets), he'd've believed him. "Angel - please. - People are going to die."

Angel almost smiled, almost - Dexter could feel it all the way across the room. It was difficult to surprise him, but Angel's words just managed it, "And yet, somehow, I just can't seem to care."

Angel closed the doors and Dexter forced himself to calm down, the bloodlust rearing inside him like an overexcited horse. He had very strict instructions. Do Not Participate in Darla or Drusilla's kills. Simply Watch Them. Destroy Those Who Attempt to Escape the Lord's Wrath.

Holland Manners stared at Darla, Drusilla - his creations through Lindsey and Lilah - and tried to breathe. Dexter could have laughed, but Angel's pain could still be felt all the way from across the room, his eyes deadened and his soul in shreds that these demons in human skin had wrought.

He could relate, he had to say.

Ordinarily, he would revel in the pain of the dying and guilty. But though Angel were guilty, it was the demon inside that had been the master of his horrors. If he would just remember that, if Dexter could help and not just watch, then maybe he wouldn't feel so helpless.

But, then, Angel, himself, was helpless. God's plan was playing out before their very eyes and choirs of angels couldn't thwart the Master's plans. Not in the end.

So there was stagnation. There was repetition. There was pain.

It matched his family's far too well for Dexter to enjoy anything about it. His _brother_ was dying inside and it was these two demon's faults. He would have given anything in order to destroy them, but he knew that this look-alike ancestor of Rita's (he still could barely wrap his mind around that, her descending from Darla's long ago whoring days) grinned wickedly, her mouth full of the teeth of the damned that if he or Angel had had their way, she wouldn't have.

She would have been given the graceful death she and Rita both deserved, but it seemed the new blood would always pay for the sins of the old. This he knew all too well so he kept his mouth shut and forced himself simply to watch.

Darla put a hand to Holland's cheek, caressing it, and the man's heartbeat tripled in rate. Holland tried to ignore her, tried to keep his eyes on Angel, but they were widening because Angel was leaving. Darla and Dru hadn't anticipated as much, nor had the lawyers, but Dexter could only sigh and watch.

The endlessly damned lawyer could only plead now, "Angel? P-please we can negotiate. We..."

Dexter might've laughed if he didn't feel like he was staring at his wife's face and what she might have looked like, had a demon managed to desecrate her even more than she already had been. He couldn't believe he was thankful for such small favors as Arthur Mitchell.

Angel was closing the door now and it was Dexter's time. He had to try to destroy as many as he could before Dru or Darla could. It was a shame his stamina was nowhere near theirs, try as he might, even with the standard supernatural upgrades of those half-angel.

Angel was turning his back now. Good. Dexter stepped out of the shadows and let Darla and Drusilla both see him for what he was.

"You have _got_ to be - "

"I know. That's what I said," Dexter returned lightly before he disappeared and pulled the rip cord, the sickeningly satisfying sound of an ethereal chainsaw filling the cellar and screams mingling with the noise.

He'd asked, after all, and the Lord had given.

"I am Dexter, the Lord's Right Hand and Angel of Death - the Dark Avenger. Prepare to be judged."

"Please," had been Holland Manners' last whispered words before Darla had bitten his throat open. Drusilla had wanted, obviously, painfully, to dance around, but was afraid.

"Daddy has a brother," she murmured, her voice weak and shaking, even as Darla ignored her and continued to destroy everyone she could get her hands on.

Darla ignored them both as much as she could and continued tearing open throats left and right.

Dexter huffed in frustration and began sawing through several Darla hadn't reached yet, leaving her to drop the body she'd just finished with and stare around in confusion and anger.

"Who's there?"

Dexter ignored her and continued to finish the job Angel was never supposed to start. "You already know me, my dear," he couldn't help but murmur in Darla's ear, watching her face, wishing to replace that never-ending image of Rita in a bathtub, taking a soak in her own blood. "You need not know my name if you can't be bothered to remember it."

He turned to Drusilla, who shivered and began to cry, a grin coming to split his face. "Don't worry, though, this one already knows. You won't ask her, that's fine. Just so long as she knows."

"Our Father, Who Art..." Dru said faintly and Dexter nodded, a soft chuckle coming to his lips. Darla darted for Lilah and Lindsey and Dexter swore, diving between them as fast as she could.

"You know, Dru's got the right idea, here. Lindsey sheltered you, Darla. You may not have honor, but at least you could have mercy. I know it's not your style, but give it a try."

Dexter allowed himself to be shown once again for a moment and Darla, Lindsey, and Lilah's eyes all widened terribly.

"Who knew wings would come so much in handy?" Dex asked as he shoved Lilah away from Darla's sure-to-be death grip. "Sorry, she's not for you, either. Angel's other brother, as Dru there would put it, needs her more than you do."

"Who are you?" Lindsey asked, staring at the bodies around them and those damned souls yet alive still trying to break back through the cellar door, which had obviously been locked from the outside.

_Honestly, Angel, could you be falling any harder?_

"But I already explained," Dexter pretended to whine before switching off his chainsaw and watching Drusilla relax enough to go to work on those he and Darla had left. "My only job as of two seconds ago is to protect you and Ms. I Share Blood I Don't Deserve, there. So I'm doing that. Be grateful, though I'm not sure either of you knows what that word means anymore."

"I know what - " Lilah started stupidly in her shock, but forced herself to stop. "You're saying _God_ is sparing Lindsey and me?"

Dexter refused to dignify that with an answer, instead turning to Darla and Drusilla, glaring. "Could you both get on with the carnage, please? I've got a schedule to keep here!"

"Why should - "

Dexter pulled out his chainsaw again and pulled its ripcord once more, bringing it roaring back to life. "Do you feel like being on the end of this thing like those bastards? They made their choice, as did you, the first time, Darla. Drusilla never made one."

He'd've given anything to stroke Dru's cheek and comfort her, but that was thoroughly against the rules he now had to follow.

"Out of everyone in this room, she and I are the most innocent. At least that's what my boss says. You wanna meet my boss face to face, Darla? You were okay with it once upon a time, after all."

"There's no Angel of Death," Darla hissed, snagging a lawyer running past, obviously intent on shouldering the door open. "There hasn't been one since...since before even the Master's time."

"If you recall, your buddy Angel, there, is the Master, so if you're referring to him, that's a little late in the timeline."

"_My_ original Sire!" Darla hissed before she sank her fangs into the lawyer's throat. Tossing his body aside, she glared at Drusilla, obviously irritated to see her companion and Angelus' masterpiece staring at this...angel?...in abject fear. The other vampiress kept attempting to bless herself, but the burning of her flesh kept reminding her what she was.

"It's not your fault," Dexter tried to assure Dru, unwillingly filled with pity. "Angel..." He sighed heavily, before darting forward and cutting off the head of the last anonymous lawyer, who by now was cowering in a corner, and watching her head roll across the blood drenched floor.

"The only ones here wanting a _wine tasting_ were the ones who deserved it. They got it. Now get out of here before I kill you, Drusilla, and send you on to your final reward."

Darla could swear she actually feel a faint breeze as Drusilla darted away and forced her way out of the locked cellar doors.

"So, he's finally come for me, has he? Death's better behaved cousin?"

"Who said I was better behaved?" Dexter asked vaguely before shoving Darla (Rita..._Dear God in Heaven, let her rest in peace..._) toward where Drusilla had gone and turning to Lilah and Lindsey who, though bloodstained, had managed to retain most of their composure.

"You two have a fate not up to me. It's the only thing saving you. Go the hell home."

They were frozen, fear truly evident on their faces for the first time in all that had gone on, and Dexter allowed his wings to spread and lift him a few feet off the floor, brushing the ceiling. "GO. HOME."

Dexter's voice was deep, bombastic, and he had to force his face to stay cold and distant even in his surprise at God speaking through him so suddenly. This was supposed to be Metatron's job, not his. Why would - never mind. He wasn't going to question God speaking through him. He's gotten the message about obedience by now.

Lindsey finally took off first, followed by Lilah, who looked back and asked again, "Who are you?"

Dexter rolled his eyes and glared at her, giving her a once-over and sneering, "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. And I don't think you deserve to, but it's not up to me so you may find out one day."

Another brush of wind and Lilah was gone.

_...I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks..._

Dexter stepped off the plane into the humidity of his home, savoring Miami and feeling cleaner than he had in a long time, if ever. Deb allowed Cody and Astor to run to him, and he enveloped them in the frequent hugs they so desperately needed now, before Deb placed Harrison in his arms and Dexter gave them all kisses on their heads.

"Was your trip fun?" Cody asked rather listlessly and Dexter frowned, "Of course not, son. Business trips are never fun. The fun part is coming home."

"Good," Cody whispered and Dexter could hear the tears in his voice. "We missed you."

Dexter motioned to Deb to take Harrison again before taking both Astor and Cody, now both crying once more, into his arms. He could see Deb crying, as well, and wished his arms had been made longer, too.

"Don't worry. I'll never be gone for long. I'm needed other places sometimes, but never more than here."

Dexter motioned for Deb to step forward and Cody slung his arm around her shoulder as they stood and hugged.

"I missed you so much, Brother," Deb murmured and Dexter resolved to try to tell her some kind of truth. She deserved it more than anyone else - to know she wasn't alone.

Dexter might not have known what to feel a lot of time, nor did he know how others felt, but this...fractured though it may be...this was home.

"I'll never be gone for long," he promised and knew that now this was one he could keep.

"Good. Oh, hey - you've got a new neighbor. Some chick named Bethany and her kid. A girl for Harrison to fight with when they get old enough. Name's Elizabeth."

"God's promise," Dexter muttered and Deb looked at him, "What?"

"Nothing."

**FIN**


	2. Disciples Of All That

**Dark Avenger**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer:** Joss Whedon, Kevin Smith, Jeff Lindsay, and Alan Moore own the characters, Showtime owns the execution of the show, Dexter's plot. My Chemical Romance. "I Never Told You What I Do For A Living.". Reprise, Warner Bros., Eyeball, 2004. (Because that's not appropriate at _all_...)

**Summary:** All these emotions...the night he killed Brian, the night he killed the used car salesman right when he'd so viciously disrespected Rita - dragging Arthur Mitchell into his kitchen to get him away from Jonah...they were overwhelming.

**Notes:** In this 'verse, Dexter kept Joe Driscoll's house instead of selling it.

**Timeline:** AtS, ep. 2.10; Dexter, ep. 4.12; post-_Dogma_, _Constantine_. Spoilers for Dexter, seasons one through four;

Part II: Disciples (Of All That's Human)

_"There hasn't been an Angel of Death since you quit, doesn't that mean anything to you?" - Bartleby, Dogma_

Dexter found Jonah almost too easily. He knew the boy wouldn't want to abandon his mother and sister, even with their completely traumatized state weighing him down.

When he told Jonah the truth, showed him everything, Jonah's eyes had widened, his face flushing with astonishment.

"Kyle," he'd breathed and Dexter had held up a hand, stopping him from speaking any further.

"I lied. I lied to protect my family from your father. You understand."

Jonah's head bobbed up and down in the shadow of the jail cell he'd been given shelter in, never wanting to go back to _that house_, but not having anywhere else for the time being. He'd stared at the wings on Dexter's back and the chainsaw in Dexter's hands and it was obvious he didn't understand, but was willing to accept anything that didn't have anything to do with his father.

Dexter hated Arthur Mitchell terribly in that moment, almost as much as every time he looked in his own childrens' eyes.

"They want to lock my mom and sister away," Jonah had gasped, falling to his knees before Dexter and staring up with pleading eyes. "They're - "

"Tearing your family apart," Dexter finished, but he was shaking his head. "Your father did that, Jonah. All along. You knew. You've always known. Thanksgiving was just your reckoning. You couldn't take it anymore. God gave you strength that day and you used it."

But Jonah only shook his head, "Everything went right back to the way it was," he said morosely, running his hands over his slightly lengthened hair.

Dexter shook his own head and placed a hand on Jonah's shoulder, "No, it didn't. It never will. It can't. You struck your independence that day. You can walk in God's footsteps without your father putting up roadblocks. _You_ can disown _him_. He's dead, Jonah. He's never coming back. What you have to do is take that fact and use it to move on. You might be able to help your family, you might not. But you _can_ help other people."

Jonah laughed, tears coming to his eyes, "I don't even know your real name, if what you said was true."

Dexter smiled similarly, "Believe it or not, when God spoke to me, I said something of the same. But the point is that you have a purpose. It's up to you to find it."

Jonah's head popped up from where he had placed it between his knees. "You're an angel. You came to me. What if my purpose is with you?"

Dexter resisted the urge to laugh, "And Arthur said you were stupid. Shows how much he knew."

Jonah actually smiled and then flinched. They both looked down to see the splint that was still on his broken finger.

"Let me have that," Dexter said softly, taking Jonah's hand in his. He gave the palm a soft squeeze and Jonah's eyes widened as the constant throbbing went away. "I wasn't lying about everything. I just needed to get close to your father - my original mission was to hunt him down and make sure he never - I messed up. You suffered and my family suffered because I faltered. I was blinded by his light."

Dexter frowned at himself before letting Jonah's hand go. Jonah carefully placed it on his knees.

"I'm sorry."

Jonah shook his head, biting his lip. "You were only trying to help. The only person my father cared about was himself. And I'll never forget that you saved me." Jonah rubbed his neck, remembering his father's hands around it and the way -

Jonah perked up again, his earlier thought coming back to him. "What's your name?"

Dexter grinned, his wings and chainsaw now away from Jonah's sight, his normal clothes again visible. "Dexter Morgan. I..." His smile faded. "I saw your father hurting you, the way he hurt your mother and sisters was hidden, but you - all it took was enough prodding and he exploded at you. No father should do what Arthur did.

"I watched him going at you and all I saw...was red. Apparently, the Lord acted through me that day, or maybe one of his disciples, because...I just wanted him to stop hurting his family, hurting you, and all of a sudden we were in the kitchen and I wanted nothing more than to enact vengeance for the family he'd destroyed."

Dexter exhaled carefully, wondering at the truth of his own words, but then he looked at Jonah's face and watched the captivation in his eyes. "He was hurting you and I wanted him to stop. I used to think...before God made me what I am, I used to think I was just another serial killer. That God had little, if _any_ place in what I do, but I was told - repeatedly - differently. But I always thought I was a monster. Empty.

"It's what my _adoptive_ father always believed and what he taught me about myself. My adoptive mother had...misgivings and doubts about me that only reinforced what everyone but my sister thought. He said I was a sociopath. But at the same time, he said my urges didn't control me, that it was the other way around. That I could restrain myself from destroying if I really wanted to."

Dexter stared past Jonah, at the cement wall beyond them both. "Harry Morgan. He was wrong, he was right. He...in the end, he couldn't handle what I was, because he, himself, didn't know. But he was also very flawed. My sister and I, we didn't know..."

"What'd your sister think?" Jonah asked quietly, his face apprehensive and hopeful at the same time.

Dexter could only smile, a small chuckle coming to his lips, "She said quite plainly to me about two years ago, 'You're _the only one I can count on, jackass._'"

At the look on Jonah's face, Dexter smiled bashfully, "Yeah, I have a sister. She's younger than me, but she's our father's blood daughter. I'm adopted. But she calls me her big brother and she's my little sister.

"It turns out, though, that I'm a middle child - as it were - like you, as you now know. Like I said, my father was very flawed. He tried to help me, but he gave in to his own urges often and with great vigor. It turns out my sister and I had another sister in Los Angeles, like _you_ had a sister here in Miami - "

"Christine," Jonah breathed, his voice saddened and his undamaged hand clenching again in sorrow.

"Yeah. Her name's Lilah and I just had to save her life. Deb - my sister - doesn't know about her yet because I plan to tell her everything all at once. But Lilah...I honestly don't know if she ever met our father and it doesn't really matter. Our familial connection pretty much ends there. Blood."

Dexter exhaled slowly, "My sister and I have, over time, found out that our father wasn't the be all that ends all - as I've found out, not by far. I have to tell you, honestly, until very recently, I was an atheist. My sister is. We weren't raised in any religion and I doubt I could have been, given what we - except Deb - thought I was.

"But...one thing this sister of ours is is amoral. I was told by God to spare her life because she has an important destiny, but if I had a choice, she would be dead. I fear she'll hurt others and have no qualms about it. I know she has.

"My father told me once that I was a good kid. I didn't believe him at the time and now that I have had to think about all my years in such vivid detail, maybe that's God's point. My wife, before Arthur murdered her, told me I was a good man - the one good man in Miami. I didn't believe her. Perhaps I should have."

Dexter sighed and sat back until his back was against the opposite bunk. "Perhaps I've doubted myself too much. Maybe I need reminders."

He looked at Jonah. "And you need reminders that God loves you and that your father made his choices, just like mine did. Both. I met my biological father a few years ago and he...I suppose we had some things in common. In-born skill at bowling.

"Demons - or maybe not, considering what I turned out to be - in our closets we desperately wanted to keep shut away. He was very successful and when I think about it, I have to let myself be proud of that. He didn't sink back into drugs or alcohol or crime. He stayed clean."

Dexter sighed and stared upward at the ceiling, remembering how Joe Driscoll looked in all the photographs of his bowling team, "He was so...my parents didn't let he and I meet when I was a kid because they didn't think he was a nice enough man. Maybe that's why he jumped on the wagon and stayed on it."

Dexter frowned, then, "I just wish I'd known. He did deserve to have someone be proud of him, whatever my sister thought. At the time, she was still of the opinion that Harry - my - _adoptive_ father - was perfect. I was beginning to find out that this was far from the case."

Dexter let his arms fall from atop his knees and drew invisible shapes in the floor, looking back up at Jonah to find him hanging onto every word. "You've known your whole life that your father - the man responsible for your existence because he was nothing of a father to you and we both know it - was a demon in man's skin. I've never known I was an angel of any kind. Others would tell me - my sister, my wife, my children, like I said - but I didn't believe them.

"I remembered when I was about fourteen or so and my mother was terribly worried about my behavior - as well she should have been. Harry coached me on what to say, how to act and respond to anything the analyst said and did. I fooled him perfectly, apparently."

Dexter leaned forward slightly and folded his hands behind his head, looking upward, "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd told the truth. But then I think of my daughter and my sons and my sister and my friends and I accept that lie for what it was: a reprieve. Because I'm paying for my sins. We all are."

Jonah shrank back into the bunk drawing his own legs as well as one of his arms up to partially cover his face with his knees. Dexter eased up on talking about God because he knew the Lord had been warped for Jonah, his family. Being told God loved him was now almost impossible for Jonah to swallow, except...

"Jonah, would you like to help me? Like you did before?"

Jonah started and Dexter raised his hands in an open gesture. "Help me help people. Help us both remember that God isn't about what your father did. That God cares for you and I and your mother and our sisters and that your father was responsible for the torment you endured, but that God...God helped you through it with a clear mind. You can help your sister in ways that the doctors can't. They didn't live it. You passed through _acid_ and came out unburned."

"I'm not," Jonah denied, shaking his head vigorously. "I'm not un..." Jonah tried to breathe then and Dexter nodded. Jonah's breath slowly came back to him and Dexter finally allowed himself to continue.

"I understand. My biological mother was murdered in front of my biological older brother and I. He ended up like your own older sister. For the safety of mine, I was forced to destroy him. He wanted me to kill her and reject my _fake_ family. But I'm not a puppet, no matter what the so-called master's intentions may be. And neither are you. You can get through this."

"Help you how? By...I don't want to kill anybody."

"I would never ask that of you," Dexter denied, wishing he could place a hand on Jonah's shoulder to reassure him but knowing it would be rebuffed violently. "My children. They need someone to watch over them while I'm away. My sister can only do so much. Do you care to help her? Do you care to become a part of _my_ family?"

Jonah's eyes were wide now, his entire body still. "I...how...I..."

"We can worry about the specifics later, but right now you do need a place to stay. My sister would love a younger brother of her own." Dexter paused. "I'll make sure she doesn't rub it in too much. She hated being the youngest when we were little."

Jonah was plainly caught between amusement and further lack of surety. "What about...are you going to tell her what you are? Any of it?"

Dexter grimaced, but forced himself to look back up at Jonah. "I suppose I owe her that. I already have to tell her Harry's Whoring, as she calls it, has scored us a sister around my age, if not a bit older. Lilah's...well, she's a lawyer, but as I said, amoral. The entire firm is. Wolfram and Hart."

Jonah startled unexpectedly and Dexter frowned in curiosity.

"That's the firm Dad had all his papers written up through when I researched him while he was gone! So...they're evil?"

Dexter nodded, "Yep. A good swath was just gutted out of their personnel, but they're still making things difficult for he who is called the Angel of Protection, in L.A. I had to do something about them."

Jonah stilled again, his face becoming solemn and slightly frightened at once. Dexter sighed inwardly, knowing Jonah had figured it out.

"You're the Angel of Death," he whispered, glancing out of the cell even though Dexter had made certain all of his colleagues were preoccupied and/or out.

"Got it in one," Dexter assured and again allowed his wings and chainsaw to come into the mortal plane. "We all have roles, Jonah. This is mine. Do you think you can handle that?"

Jonah stared at the chainsaw for a moment before asking, "Is your sister - ?"

"No, no," Dexter denied pointedly. "She's a normal woman and always has been. Well, normal except for being traumatized constantly. I try to take care of that as best I can, but all I can offer _her_ is support. I try to be the best brother I can and you'll have to do the same, even if you're not sure how. It's all you can do."

"Does this mean I'm an..." Jonah leaned forward and whispered, "An angel?"

Dexter shook his head, "I have no idea. It's hard to tell. I thought I was a sociopath and the Angel of Protection is a balancing demon going through a crisis of faith that made mine look like...Dear God in Heaven, help him.

"He's dying bit by bit, his soul withering away, and all I can do is try to even the scales a little bit so the darkness doesn't destroy him quite so easily. It's one thing to have your soul stolen from you. It's another to voluntarily try and give it up and I fear he's headed toward exactly that."

Jonah's eyes widened, "Well, you've got to do something! We do!"

But Dexter could only shake his head. "I know it's hard for you to understand, but choice is the only thing that's going to end this. He has to make a choice. Wolfram and Hart have corrupted him terribly already. He's just...so dead inside. It actually hurt to be anywhere near him and I thought that was impossible for me to register, let alone endure.

"I honestly think that if you tried anything, he'd harm you and I can't allow that. It's nothing he's trying to do, I know this for a fact, but his pain is just so _great_...have you ever seen a corpse, Jonah?"

Jonah nodded and Dexter continued, "Imagine if this corpse were given the gift of a soul - like you and I have - and the choice to do good. Imagine...this corpse knowing himself and the way he thinks, the thoughts of the demon inside him that enjoys the pain of others so exquisitely...that he was afraid to be around anyone because he's sure he'd destroy them.

"But that just makes everything worse because now the corpse has nothing to hold onto, nothing to make him feel the slightest bit alive and normal. Now, you have that and I have that. Imagine if it were taken away."

Jonah paled and Dexter knew his point had hit home, at least somewhat.

"He's going to try to kill himself," Jonah said quietly and Dexter could hear the lack of doubt in his voice.

"That's my fear, yes," Dexter affirmed. He'd known it from the moment he'd seen Angel's eyes, seen the raw pain and...depthless despair within him. Dexter knew that pain, somewhat. Sergeant Doakes had told him he was spinning, that his urge to kill was only going to get worse. But this...this was darkness on a level Dexter, himself, had never experienced. He was certain even _Brian_ had never experienced it.

He could spin all he wanted, but he wasn't going to take anyone down with him when he toppled. That, he knew. Harry was right. Dexter was in charge of himself and what he did. Angel had a demon chomping at the bit to take control and slaughter the whole world.

"What'll that mean?" Jonah asked and Dexter could only shrug.

"That's the worst part. I don't know."

_...Another knife in my hands, the stain will never come off the sheets - clean me off, I'm so dirty, babe..._

"You're just taking a kid to live with you, now?" Deb asked incredulously, giving Jonah yet another once over. "What are you, Dad?"

Dexter rolled his eyes and glanced over at Astor and Cody, who were still packing.

"He needs a family. Whatever Dad did, he still had good qualities, you and I both know that. We may be angry and may feel betrayed, but in the end, would you rather we'd never been brother and sister?"

Deb sagged slightly then rolled her eyes a bit. "No, as - " She halted sharply and glanced down at Harrison slumbering against Dexter's chest in the baby carrier. "No. We settled this already, you and I and Astor and Cody and Harrison and - I guess, now, Jonah, you kid-collecting freak - "

Dexter grinned for the first time in over three months and Deb bit her lip, blinking as tears fell before she could stop them.

"We're our only family so don't you effin' forget it."

Dexter's grin widened at her affirmation of his intentions and he turned to gesture grandly at Jonah, "There, so that's settled. I'm just glad to be out of suburbia. That place was - "

And here Dexter turned back and whispered in Deb's ear, "Hell on Earth."

Deb fought back a laugh, but didn't quite manage it.

"You and I have to talk later," Deb insisted and Dexter nodded.

"Of course."

Dexter exhaled, cuddling Harrison closer to his chest as he watched Astor and Cody both pick up their suitcases and wheel them toward the door and each glanced dolefully at Jonah, but neither objected to his presence. That was a step in the right direction, Dexter decided.

_...And we'll all dance along to the tune of your death and we'll love again, we'll laugh again, we'll cry again, and we'll dance again..._

Dexter had been using the time off work - bereavement period, he would call it what it was because Rita deserved as much - to find a new house, one with enough room for everyone. Now, it seemed, he had to find one with room for Jonah, as well. Or maybe a place for Jonah's own, that might be better. That wasn't too much trouble.

The insurance money, he'd already decided to use for Astor, Cody, and Harrison's college funds. Jonah had already decided against college, particularly since going on a football scholarship...it would again tie him to his father. Dexter couldn't blame him.

They'd figure out what Jonah would do later on once everything had settled down.

But for now? Dexter had to talk to Debra. Dear God, he had to share what he now knew he was.

Sighing, Dexter knocked on his old apartment door, thankful that Astor, Cody, and Harrison all seemed to like Jonah well enough to spend time with him. Enough that Dexter had time to sit and actually _talk_ to Deb...explain things?

How to explain one's sudden faith in a calling they were given by a higher power they've never accepted, nor particularly cared about.

But it was rather more pertinent to find Jonah somewhere to live, somewhere far away from anything that reminded him of Arthur Mitchell, but that he could still call home in Florida.

**I suppose it was a good thing, then, that Rita told me that keeping my biological father's house might come in handy someday. It's nowhere I'd want to raise the kids, but gives Jonah a place of his own, some place...well, I'm not sure if _clean_ is exactly the right word, but any place free of all that...dare I say it? Darkness.**

**Joe Driscoll may have been murdered by Brian, but it...how to explain that it wasn't the same?**

Dexter gave his head a slight shake and looked back at Deb, who had just flicked the side of his head. They were standing in front of Deb's apartment now, both of them leaning on the railing.

"You wanted to talk to me, Dex, now talk to me."

Dexter sighed, biting his lip. "A couple of things. First of all, do you think it's better to have Jonah living with us or to give him the house Joe Driscoll left me? It's...Rita said it was a good idea to keep it, you know? For tax purposes and other...situations. This would be one of them. You think Jonah - "

"Would love to live in that crappy house with wood paneling and a shit ton of bowling balls?"

Dexter sighed heavily, "Deb, please. Just humor me - do you think it's better to have him come live with me and the kids or give him a place of his own so he wouldn't have to be smothered?"

Deb took a drag on her cigarette and then flicked it away. "Well...you obviously care about the kid. And he'll want his own space, but - at the same time, he'll need...you know, comfort. He's a teenaged boy, sure, but - I don't know, Dex, just get a place with a room over a garage or something and give him that. He'd get space when he needs it and...he won't be lonely when he doesn't want it."

Dexter considered what Deb was telling him now and then nodded. "That's...that's good. I guess I can still keep Joe's house, like I have, just for whatever reason. Maybe I can stay in it when the kids are all grown up and far flung to the corners of the earth or whatever. Just make sure it stays clean right now, move into it then, whatever. But, yeah, your idea's...brilliant. I think I'll at least give him the record collection now, though. No reason he can't enjoy that."

Deb chuckled, "Well, thanks, Brother. Now, can we get to the _real_ reason you asked me out here at the asscrack of dawn on a _Sunday_ of all days? I mean, I know you get off on all this early morning bullshit, but it's not like we're headed to - "

Dexter felt a twinge in his chest at Deb's ironic choice of words. "Deb, please - let me finish. I've got..." Dexter sighed and looked up at the rising sun on the horizon. "I don't have the slightest idea how I'm supposed to say any of this to you without sounding like a complete lunatic.

"I'll be completely honest and tell you that I told, showed Jonah first. He was raised in this - not like us, this wasn't our life. We lived in the world and didn't think about what was away from it except for the other planets in science class, but...God, this is hard."

"Well, just spit it out, Dex, come on."

Dexter exhaled heavily, biting his lip. "What if I told you that...that...that there's more out there than just us? Just humans on Earth? What if I told you there was more than...what if I told you that demons and angels existed outside of human hearts and minds?"

**Sure enough, Deb is staring at me, now, like I've grown another head. Bravo, Dexter. Damned last resorts.**

Dexter sighed and backed away carefully, "Sorry about this, Deb, I know how...never mind, there's not really words for this."

Dexter exhaled slowly and allowed his wings to expand, his breastplate and chainsaw coming into view. Deb's eyes widened like someone had grabbed her from behind and Dexter had to fight the urge to shrink away from her scrutiny, but forced himself to stay calm.

He could hear her whispering, though. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..." It echoed in his ears like the toll of a bell and his heart palpated in his chest, but he forced himself yet and still to bear to brunt of her...whatever.

"Dexter, what the fuck?" Deb shrieked, jumping backward, and pointed at him, her hands shaking.

"I'm trying to explain, Deb," Dex whispered, knowing he was shaking himself by now. "It was...you know that trip I had to take? It was to Los Angeles. I had to - my business trip was to perform..."

Suddenly words Debra said to me so long ago came echoing back, _You opened your mouth and sounds came out._

Dexter forced himself to step forward, "You said you wanted me to talk to you, this is...me trying. I'm doing this the only way I know how."

Debra was shaking her head back and forth, but Dexter continued, his voice just above a whisper. "I was in...it was white everywhere and then...I know you'll say I'm crazy. I _feel_ crazy...well, sort of. No more than usual. Anyway, I'm rambling. I've never done that before. I'm sorry. Deb...God made me something...powerful, something to help where you and others down here can't. And I have to try, so...so I have to be honest. I...I'm the Angel of Death."

_...It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame, it's for the bodies I claim and those only go so far 'til you bury them, so deep and down we go..._

Deb stared, wide-eyed, at Dexter, her eyes bouncing back and forth from the wings, to the breastplate, to the chainsaw and back again and her hand came up to touch him, but she kept snatching it away at the last moment. "No. No, Dexter, there is no - "

Dexter let out a small chuckle, "I thought that. I even told Him as much. He...She...It. They said He's not really anything, though Serendipity and Metatron have their own ideas. But that's not the point. I told Him I didn't believe in Him and He said He believed in me. In what I do.

"He said one of my brothers in arms needed help and that I had to go to him. That's what I was doing in Los Angeles - I'm the Angel of Death, but I had to...the Angel of Protection is falling and I needed to keep him from falling so far he could never climb back out."

"Bullshit," Deb whispered, tears sliding out of her eyes. "This is bullshit."

"No, Deb, it's not," Dexter whispered, tears of his own matching hers. "Just...just give me a moment."

Dexter resisted the urge to take Deb's hand and simply backed away from her, keeping eye contact the entire time as he stepped up onto the railing and jumped down off it, landing smoothly on the grass below, trying to ignore the petrified expression on Deb's face as she gripped the railing in turn, her mouth opening to tell him - call his name, Dexter didn't know what, but when he landed on his feet, she froze.

Dexter took a breath and sighed, "Into the Light, I Command Thee."

Within seconds, Metatron dropped out of nowhere, landing next to Dexter and giving him a dirty look. Debra managed to muffle a scream, but not by much.

"What the - who the hell are you?"

Metatron rolled his eyes, "Bloody hell, Dexter, I may be the Lord's Messenger, but not yours."

Dexter gave the other angel a desperate look, "Metatron, I need your help, you know I do. You helped Bethany - you've tried to help Angel even though he's not listening at the moment."

"How strong of you to admit you need help, Dexter," Metatron said in a deadpan voice.

Metatron sighed and stared upward at Debra, who was gaping like a fish at the pair of angels standing down on the grass. "I know how difficult that is for you."

"Lord's Messenger?" Debra asked weakly, and Metatron nodded, throwing another deeply irritated look at Dexter, who ignored it in favor of gazing hopefully up at his sister.

"Metatron. Voice of the Almighty and the One True God," Metatron said softly, but Deb winced and Dexter elbowed Metatron in the ribs because he knew the other angel's voice was probably echoing within Deb's head, likely giving her a headache.

Deb shook her head, covering her ears in pain before removing her hands and glaring at them both. "You honestly - God, Dex, this is fucking insane!"

"You think I don't know that?" Dexter asked softly, still more desperately. "I didn't..." Dexter sighed. "Last Friday - _Shabbat_, you might say if we were Jewish - I used _this_ - "

Dexter hefted his chainsaw, which glowed brightly even in the early morning sun. "To destroy thirty-two wicked souls in a wine cellar in Los Angeles and was forced to look the demonic ancestor of my deceased wife in her face and thank God Rita didn't meet _that_ particular end. She and Darla - that's this vampire's name - look so alike, it was like my heart had been skewered and was being roasted.

"Last week, I found - and spared, at God's command - our half-sister, Lilah Morgan, and her colleague, Lindsey McDonald from that same fate. The one who allowed it to happen was my brother, Angelus - Liam, _Angel_. The Angel of Protection, the One with the Angelic Face. He's falling, like I said, and the Lord asked me to help him not fall quite so far."

"Half-sister?" Debra asked weakly and Dexter nodded.

"She was born in Miami-Dade County, but she lives in L.A. now. She's older than us both, actually, meaning I'm a middle child like Jonah. Her name is Lilah - she has Dad's last name, unfortunately, and she works at a law firm that specializes in defending the evil cocksuckers you work so hard to put away every day. They're amoral, as a rule. I was asked to spare her because Angel's brother, in soul not in blood, or...whatever it is we do...needs her. His path...look, it doesn't matter.

"I just thought you deserved to know and while I know Metatron doesn't appreciate being treated like a show pony, this was the best proof I could give. Gabriel's been stripped of his wings for going against God's wishes, and Metatron is the closest angel to me, anyway - only a bit up from me in command.

"You already think you're hallucinating, I know, but I swear on my life, I'm here to protect you and the rest of - well, the world, it would seem. But I need your help, Sister, and I can't do this without you.

"I would have told you first, but - like I said - Jonah was raised knowing all of this. He was the easier sell, simply put. I can't tell Astor or Cody, of course. Harrison, they - God promised me that his soul was washed clean, he won't be like me, like I was. Traumatized and stunted. I don't know what his future holds, but it'll be different from mine."

"What the - hell are you - talking about?" Debra whispered, tears trailing down her face now as she forced herself to breathe and keep from screaming in fear and disbelief.

Metatron glanced at Dexter and said in that same deadpan yet, this time, more comforting voice, "I think it would be better to take this indoors, don't you?"

Dexter sighed as he watched Metatron snap his fingers and then they were inside Debra's apartment, around the living room table on the couch she'd inherited from him.

Debra clenched her eyes shut before forcing them open again and seeing the same crazy sight. Her brother and some black-haired guy with a British accent both dressed in regular clothes now, but she couldn't stop staring.

"You can't expect me to just believe this."

"No," Dexter said softly and Metatron sighed and glanced at the ceiling. "No, I most certainly do not. There's been a lot of lying in our lives, Deb. I can't afford to do it to you. You pointed out to me once that you weren't my sister, that Harry was your father. Well, Harry wasn't only your father, but Lilah's. Just like - " Dexter sighed. "You remember...Rudy?"

Deb stiffened slightly, but forced herself to relax. "Yeah, Dex. Kind of hard to forget the son of a bitch who almost killed you. Who the hell was he, really? Since that's obviously what you're getting at."

Dexter bit his lip in slight disgust, though he couldn't figure out exactly whom it was aimed at. He took a wild guess and decided God, but felt that was pointless. Brian could only work so hard to overcome his wounds. Harry. God. They were both to and not to blame, if blame was supposed to be apportioned here.

But that wasn't the point right now.

"My older half-brother by a year. He was - we watched our mother murdered in a shipping container when I was three and he was four and Harry decided to leave him behind. Apparently - " And here Dexter couldn't help but shoot Metatron, himself, a filthy look, which Metatron took in stead. "Harry thought he was too _damaged_, just like God said he was too _damned_."

Deb felt her eyes burn as tears slipped out of them and flashes of the night Rudy kidnapped her flashing through her mind. Before she knew it, the one called _Metatron_ was next to her, rubbing her back, and Deb was surprised to find comfort radiating out of his hand into her, washing her anxiety away and filling it with acceptance in its place.

Dex was still talking and Deb forced herself to relax and simply listen.

"But...me...they thought I was different. I knew something went inside me that day, taking over when it wanted to...but...where Brian was a killer, Dad always told me, killing had to have a purpose, otherwise it was just murder.

"Rudy...his name was really Brian, sorry. He was my older brother, like I said. I...remember him from then, now. He...God said he was too sick. I remember him yelling at me that you can't be a killer and a hero - _it doesn't work that way!_ He was wrong. He was old enough for demons to take the place of..."

"Angels?" Deb bit out, trying so hard to make sense of all of this and failing once again.

"Just one," Dexter said softly, knowing rejection when he saw it. He bit his lip again, a breath forcing its way in as he struggled not to cry.

All these emotions...the night he killed Brian, the night he killed the used car salesman right when he'd so viciously disrespected Rita - dragging Arthur Mitchell into his kitchen to get him away from Jonah...they were overwhelming.

"It's...it's alright, Deb," he whispered now, tears coming to his eyes for the first time since he found Rita in the bathtub. Her entire funeral, he'd been nothing but numb. Empty inside. It was comforting. He was used to that. It was like a security blanket. Funny how he'd never needed one before.

"You don't have to do anything. Not any - "

"Will you shut up for five seconds?" Deb burst out, staring in awe and almost fear at seeing her brother cry for the first time that she could remember.

Dexter glanced up, blinking as his eyes stung and he fought a shudder. "What?"

"You really think I'm just going to - G - " Deb glanced at Metatron and winced, shooting him a withering glare of her own that he merely raised an eyebrow to. "You think I'm just going to - what, throw you away?"

"Seemed logical," Dexter muttered and he fought the urge to curl up with his knees under his chin.

"You take care of me, jackass," Debra snapped, "Better than Dad - you've put me first more than I can count. Yeah, you told Jonah all - _this_ first, but - but so what? You - _we_ didn't ask for any of this. You didn't ask to - holy fuck, you didn't ask for your _mother_ to be murdered in front of you any more than Harrison did. I'm not - if _God_'s decided you're going to help people, then you better do a damned good fucking job of it, got that, jerkoff?"

Dexter blinked again, his mouth falling open to reveal reddened bite marks he'd left in his lower lip. "You're...okay with this?"

"I..." Deb sighed. "Not - not yet, but - not because of - of you. It's a whole mess of shit, like the fact that we have a fucking half-sister in California and who the hell knows where else because, of course, Dad couldn't keep his dick to himself for five minutes. It's the fact that some other angel's been made _your_ responsibility because the dumbass couldn't - how the hell do angels fall, anyway?"

Metatron sighed this time, answering calmly, "A myriad of reasons, really. This one was quite purposely driven insane and corrupted by the law firm your older sister represents because they have a vested interest in him. He's quite far from the half-wit you think he is, mind you. His cunning and intelligence are part of his appeal to them.

"The employees at Wolfram and Hart don't have the information we do and don't receive it until after death. Their contracts don't expire when their bodies do. Just like there's more to your brother, there's more to Angel - that's his, well, not his birth name, but the one he goes by - "

"Short for Angelus?"

Metatron nodded shortly, "He took the first name after he was Sired and the shortened form after he regained his soul. His name before that was Liam, which means 'Protector', hence his title and what he does even when he tries not to."

Dexter continued, "He's a vampire, so is Darla - Rita's ancestor - she Sired him in the mid-eighteenth century. He's the only one with a soul, though. It's a long story. I've seen a whole lot - it was sort of jammed into my head once I accepted my Calling. His is a really, really long story. Plus, he's a bit of a drama queen, I think."

Metatron snorted and Debra found herself chuckling before she caught herself and glared at both of them. Dexter sighed and continued.

"Wolfram and Hart has more information on him than any other being on this plane or any other - vested interest, hence their driving him out of his mind and somehow expecting that not to have any consequences. But Angel's falling hard as hell, right now, and I was asked to try and make sure he didn't far so far he couldn't climb back out. Hopefully, I did the job correctly."

"Only time will tell," Metatron said woefully, though betraying his _worry_ by picking a bit of lint off his hooded sweatshirt. "Those lawyers were meant to die anyway, hence your role, but - like the Roma who cursed Angelus in the first place, they're messing about with forces and lives they have no business with. Playing God. The Lord does not abide that, if you hadn't noticed."

"That's why the Kalderash clan was massacred at the hands of Angelus' cohorts, the rest of the Scourge of Europe - " Dexter sat up then, blinking and wiping his face once and for all. "Because they played God and snatched Angel's human soul out of Heaven and strapped it back into a body that carried a demon who had been committing unspeakable acts for well over a century."

"The Father said you were brilliant," Metatron gave a hint of a smile.

Dexter grimaced, actually blushing a bit, and Deb stared at them both before looking at her own hands. "Oh, my - I have to be dreaming. I'm acting like my brother turning out to be the Angel of Death and his buddy, the Voice of God, sitting on my fucking couch are just - oh, hey, let's mix drinks next!"

But here both Dexter and Metatron declined, "Thanks to the previous Angel of Death and a Grigory - a Watcher, some of the first who guided Vampire Slayers - God decreed that angels are never again allowed to imbibe alcohol. Not that your brother would anyway, given his history as a teetotaler as well as that of his two elder children's biological father being the exact opposite. Still, we literally cannot swallow it."

Deb stared at Metatron now, the beginnings of a smirk on her face, "Either you're shitting me or - sucks for you."

"At least I don't have to try Masuka's idea of tequila," Dexter shot back and Deb made a face.

"Ugh, fucking tightwad. Who the hell ever heard of pumpkin tequila?"

"Vincent Masuka, apparently," Metatron said dryly and Deb's eyes widened.

"Whoa. You...you actually know about that."

Metatron rolled his eyes and then Deb got very excited and jumped up, pointing, "Okay, that pervert Masuka's totally going to some level of Hell, right?"

"You say that like you want him to," Dexter objected plaintively and Deb scowled, "Fine, asshole. I'm just saying - isn't Lust one of those cardinal sins?"

Both Metatron and Dexter nodded, but then Dexter added, "Deb, if there was no lust, none of humanity would exist. Each of the sins, no matter their...distasteful nature...has a purpose. The key is repenting and most people have the conscience to do that."

"Not Ru - Brian, or what - " Deb cut herself off and glanced at Dexter who, despite her fears, nodded in agreement.

"The only salvation I could give him, the only mercy, was to kill him."

Deb's eyes widened, "You..."

Dexter nodded, "It was either he or you. There was no choice, Deb. Not one I was willing to ever make in his favor."

Tears came to Deb's eyes again and she felt her throat constricting as she really thought of _Brian_ for the first time in nearly two years.

"I'm sorry," Deb whispered, reaching out and taking Dexter's hand, gratified when he let her.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Dexter assured her and Deb smiled a bit.

Her eye caught the clock on the wall and she groaned, "Ugh, well, what - do angels get to _eat_? It's fuckin' breakfast time here."

Metatron watched Dexter blink in confusion yet again as Deb got up to search for something to eat and clapped the young man on the shoulder to wake him from his stupor.

"Would it make you feel better if she ran you through with the flaming sword Loki used?"

Dexter chuckled, truly nervous for the first time in his life, and took the cue to get up and follow his sister into the kitchen.

"So this Lilah chick, what is she, a real bitch?"

_...And it's better off this way, so much better off this way - I CAN'T CLEAN THE BLOOD OFF THE SHEETS IN MY BED!_

...TBC...


	3. Father Scavengers of the Damned

**Dark Avenger**  
_By Angelfirenze_

**Disclaimer: **Joss Whedon, Kevin Smith, Alan Moore, et al., and Jeff Lindsay own the characters, Showtime owns the execution of the show, Dexter's plot. Warner Bros. owns the execution of _Constantine_'s plot, as well. Taking Back Sunday. "Tell All Your Friends.". Victory Records, 2002. Thursday. "A City By the Light Divided.". Island Records, 2006.

**Summary:** "You're - we're - no, you're - 'cause it's gonna be at your work - gonna to be visited by the two Seers, the fallen archangel Gabriel, and _Last Scion _lives two blocks over?" Jonah couldn't swallow the awe in his voice, not that Dexter could blame him, but Deb raised her hand and gave a beseeching expression.

"Hello? 'Last Scion'? Religious idiot here."

**Notes:** Yes, it has been a _long_time for this one, but - as per my usual thing - I got writer's block in the worse way.

Anyway, I had just rewatched _Dogma_ and _Constantine _when starting this one, plus S2 of Dexter and started S3 in anticipation of buying am finally re-watching S4 and S5.

**Notes, Second: **I would feel scooped, but I've decided to go what will likely be an entirely different route than Dexter's canon will/might, because - having not seen that part yet - I could be wrong. Hopefully, it'll keep me writing now that I've finally gotten the impetus to do so for this story back by buying S4 (about time I had the chance...).

**Notes, Third: **I am a Deb/Anton shipper. That is all.

**Timeline:** AtS, ep. 2.10; Dexter, ep. 4.12; post-_Dogma_. post-_Constantine_. Spoilers for Dexter, seasons one through four;

Father (Scavengers of the Damned)

_"I know you've never had much faith - you've never had much reason to, but that doesn't mean we don't have faith in you..." Beeman, Constantine_

Dexter sat on the couch in Deb's apartment, a snowy television screen before him, as he slowly flipped through his and Rita's wedding album. Had it only been a year ago? His more vivid memories from that year included befriending and then killing Miguel Prado for murdering innocents who got in his way for any reason.

Killing Freebo - realizing Miguel had betrayed him, used him...but first of all, killing _Oscar_ Prado completely by accident and in self-defense and feeling _remorse_for the first time in his life - being caught by the Skinner and breaking his own hand to get free...but marrying Rita had been...the only good thing that happened that year, it now felt. That and finally coming to terms with being a father. A father wolf who would have gnawed off his own paw to get free, to return to his pack...wolves mate for life.

The break in his hand had been horrendous and incredibly painful, but so unbelievably worth it because he, no longer lone, had his pack for life. Was it all now just...nothing?

Dexter raised that hand, his left, now, and stared at it almost without comprehension.

Metatron had told him to come back here for some reason and Deb had simply shrugged and gone to spend the night or however long with Jonah and the kids in their new home, which Dexter had conceded to buying in the same region, if not neighborhood, street or - certainly - address. She figured it seemed a bit natural that this might be his waystation, as she'd called it, considering it'd been his for so long and so many people had used it to send him a message of some kind.

Dexter hadn't given her complete disclosure and, thankfully, she'd declined to ask for more, but she did now know how Brian had gotten Dexter's attention before anyone else had known he existed, not to mention the fact that Ramón Prado had been the one to trash it out of anger that he felt Dexter had destroyed his family before they'd come to a sort of peace.

But Dexter gave his head a bit of a shake. It didn't matter. All that mattered was -

"Ahp!"

"Why do you always make that weird noise?" Dexter asked calmly as Metatron materialized behind him, his wings spreading fully to bend slightly at both ends of the room. Sure enough, when Dexter turned around, Metatron was detracting them, a pained grimace on his face, and Dexter suddenly felt the blood pumping through his own unseen wings and winced slightly.

Funny, he'd never had sympathy pains before accepting this Calling.

"Does it bloody well matter? I'm concentrating on not setting whatever I land on afire, thank you very much."

Dexter couldn't help grinning. "Lucifer's the one who scorches the ground he walks upon. I've seen it by now, myself. It's kind of mesmerizing - the sizzling. It was a wonder Constantine could concentrate on anything at all, though - you know - what with his wrists bleeding out and whatnot.

"I should ask how that actually feels, blood draining out of you. I haven't felt that since I was seven and I was in shock so it didn't really register."

Metatron rolled his eyes as, finally, his wings were out of sight. "I still have to break through a tear in reality from the ethereal planes, which you good and well know - can we get to the bloody point, please, or is the upstart trainee going to hold things up even further? What's your business with John Consantine, anyway?"

Dexter held up his hands in a concilliary gesture. "I just have a feeling...or is it Dodson?" Dexter frowned slightly. "Angela or Isabel, I should ask for specifics. Isabel's an angel and Angela's a Seer. I..."

Dexter felt his face fall. "I told Rufus I was never good at this small talk or pretending to care about people I haven't actually met. He never listens to me. He's as bad as Vince and Angel are about _socializing_, if only about a different kind."

"He feels he can help you," was all Metatron told him gently before adding. "He helped the former Last Scion, though I will admit you're rather more difficult. Bethany Sloane at least was raised in a faith. Have you spoken to her at all yet? Or Elizabeth?"

Dexter frowned, sighing heavily. "Elizabeth's two. But I tried with Bethany, like I was told, which you probably know anyway, but as soon as she - Bethany - realized she was talking to me, being Dexter Morgan Whose Wife Was Murdered by the Trinity Killer, she backed off - though she is the only one who doesn't seem to think Harrison has something wrong with him, what with being found at the scene and all. His fingernails are evil, you know - a ten-month-old's thin fingernails that I happened to forget to clip. Silly me. Are you asking me to hound _her_? A little backwards, no?"

Metatron gave him a long-suffering look, "I'm asking you to let her in, once she realizes how important it is. What your mortal neighbors say matters little. You've exercised this discipline before, Dexter."

"That wasn't discipline, that was alienation - acting!" Dexter objected before smacking his hands over his mouth, wincing in anticipation of the searing sensation as something on him was burned, but nothing happened.

"The Lord understands your desperation, Dexter. I'm not here to reprimand you, nor will you be disciplined, despite your valid reasons for believing so. Your business in Los Angeles isn't quite finished."

"What is it with that city?" Dexter asked now in relief, but already knowing the answer. "Does the name have to be so literal?"

Metatron sighed, "Gabriel is having serious problems adjusting to humanity - _no_, I do not, nor does the Lord expect you to ease his pain, that was the entire point."

"He's still trying to counsel Constantine and act as a vessel of God despite being cast out," Dexter sighed, frowning and running his hands through his hair. "You're not about to say _I'm_supposed to be John Constantine's counsel..."

"Close, but not quite." Metatron was plainly leading him somewhere and he was nearly there...

Dexter gave the other angel a quizzical look, "Angela Dodson's? But she's still a cop with the LAPD."

"She's taken a leave of absence to deal with the Spear of Destiny. Surely, you know all about hiding things and finding ways to do so."

Dexter was incredulous now. "Yeah, Metatron, _bodies_, not the - "

"Murder weapon used against the Lord, our Savior, thus making it a Holy vessel and one of the most coveted objects in the universe."

"I keep my tools with me, in my..." Dexter's eyes widened, "Metatron, you're asking me to hide the Spear of Destiny with my kill tools. I - I can't - what do you want me to do? Get pissant murderer blood on it? It's a blessed..."

Dexter's face fell again, "But the Lord and - as a result - you, yourself, have no qualms whatsoever giving me this most magnanimous responsibility...because...because I'm just so good at hide and seek. Thank you, Dad."

Metatron sighed, "Dexter. Detective Angela Dodson's coming to Miami to see you. She will be transferring to yours and your sister's workplace, as well, for the interim. Constantine may or may not be with her. Neither you nor he are people persons. More than likely Dodson will be playing referree more often than not. Constantine's got rather a mouth, in case you hadn't been informed.

"Either way, you _will_ be her counsel in _addition_to cleaning up after Angel, and you will tolerate Constantine and Gabriel if he decides to drop by. Whatever else happens is up to them, they are human with the exception of Angelus, after all. Such is the Calling you accepted, to aid your Brother and Sister Champions."

With that, Metatron turned on his heel and tore a burning hole through the air in Deb's living room, leaving Dexter blowing a breath of overwhelming unease out of his mouth in anticipation for the Greatest Show of All Time.

For now, though, he needed a nap.

_...If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar..._

Dexter sat around his kitchen table later that night with Deb and Jonah, discussing what Metatron had told Dexter earlier that evening. Astor, Cody, and Harrison were all asleep in their rooms, but they spoke in hushed tones nonetheless.

"You're - we're - no, you're - 'cause it's gonna be at your work - gonna to be visited by the two Seers, the fallen archangel Gabriel, and _Last Scion_lives two blocks over?" Jonah couldn't swallow the awe in his voice, not that Dexter could blame him, but Deb raised her hand and gave a beseeching expression.

"Hello? 'Last Scion'? Religious idiot here."

"The Last Scion is said to - is almost directly descended from Jesus Christ," Jonah clarified and Deb's eyes narrowed.

"Almost dir - " Suddenly comprehension dawned on her face and she sank into her chair. "Right, because Jesus was, like, just over my age when He bit the - when he died. So Mary and Joseph were like, actually - "

"Please don't finish that sentence," Jonah asked plaintively and Deb lifted her hands in acquiescence.

Dexter snorted and Deb punched him in the shoulder, irritated when he didn't so much as flinch. "You know, you could at least pretend it still hurts."

"Because your ego just can't take not causing me any when inflicting bodily pain," Dexter smothered a small smile and Deb smiled back, glad to see something approaching humor on Dexter's face after so long.

After everyone was apprised of the coming events, Jonah went off to his room and Deb got herself and Dexter a beer from the fridge out of habit.

"More for me, then," she noted upon remembering he couldn't drink anymore.

But Dexter had other things on his mind - being Deb's happiness, which he'd seen slip further and further away since Brian kidnapped her several years before.

He gently took the longneck bottle away from her mouth, holding his other hand up in supplication when she protested, and placed it on the table.

"Deb, why...why'd you break up with Anton? You two were so happy together. That's the happiest I've ever seen you and when he was missing was the most passionate, which is - saying something."

Deb's eyes widened as her hand traveled to her scar without her knowledge and she stared down at the table, tears coming to her eyes. "Dex, isn't - isn't it obvious? I mean, what a fuck-up I am and - "

"Didn't I tell you, you're not the fuck up? I - " Dexter exhaled, himself, backtracking. "Look, neither of us is a fuck up. You're...you're just _human_and I...well, I've never been, but the point is that I think you're making a mistake, believing you don't deserve any happiness or forgiveness.

"I had never seen you so happy, not ever. And, then here's Lundy, may he rest in peace, whom you never even call by his first name and you were brought together solely by the case to find me, which - of course - I couldn't let that happen, but I never thought my cohorts would allow Lila to take Doakes' life to spare mine."

Deb was crying again, now, silently, as she traced the watermark left by her bottle. "Yeah, that was...that was supposed to be some kind of miracle put forth by the Powers That Be? Doakes is _dead_and everybody thinks he's - you!"

Dexter took a deep breath. Deb was getting good at changing the subject, but he wasn't going to let her. "Stop deflecting. Doakes is resting in peace, his sins forgiven, his soul washed clean. All earthly devisings no longer affect him and I killed Lila for what she did to him, _as I already told you_. She's in Hell where she belongs. Let me get back to my point and stop trying to derail me."

"Good, let the fucking bitch rot. And since when in the hell were you some kind of matchmaker?" Deb asked in what would have been a biting tone, except it completely lacked her usual snark.

"Since you brought me together with the love of my life, even if none of us knew it at the time. She - Rita - "

"May she rest in peace," Deb cut in, wondering if she should bless herself or something, but knowing she had never been baptized or anything like that, so she just let her hands flutter aimlessly in her lap under the table.

Dexter nodded, "May she. I became a matchmaker the moment I realized...you've made a huge mistake. No, let me finish, Deb," he said more forcefully, not allowing Deb to turn his words into more self-effacing garbage against herself. "You never told Anton about...about Brian, did you?"

Deb started to backpedal, but Dexter couldn't let her. "Deb, Anton was taken by the Skinner. His flesh desecrated, his body all but forfeit, fear the only company he had...and the only one who would ever understand that who was in his life? Was you."

Deb had frozen now, her wide eyes on Dexter as his words sunk in. Finally, she spoke. "He...I...I told him he was like Valium and he...said I was like Red Bull."

Dex couldn't help but smile a bit. "That's...so accurate. What'd you tell Lundy?"

Deb's face contracted on the left side as she thought back to that day on Dexter's shitty marina when Lundy insisted on eating lunch and told her she was very fidgety.

"I told him he was like Dad - oh, God, I'm Electra..." Deb finally brought her hands up to cover her face, shaking her head back and forth before Dexter gently brought them back down.

"Dad pretty much ignored you in favor of teaching me the Code. You never told him how much you missed being around him, wished he would spend half as much time with you as he did me and it doesn't matter what the end product is - me never taking innocent lives.

"Harry more or less took ours because, for all intents and purposes, we were idolaters for a long time. Nothing he intended, I'm sure, but no human being is perfect and that's exactly what we thought he was. It makes complete sense that you would search for someone like him in anyone, because what else did you have at the time?"

Deb blew out a frustrated breath, "Then why would I fuc - mess up something so good with Anton just because Lundy comes sauntering back into town looking for that son of a bitch who had the nerve to call himself Jonah and Rebecca's father when really he was his family's jailer?"

Dexter frowned slightly, "Because old habits do die hard, Deb. We used to base every single thing we thought upon what Dad taught us. Finding out he wasn't the man we thought was like a slap in the face, wasn't it? But we don't hold him up to sunlight anymore, do we? His wings have melted and now he's down in the candlelight where the rest of us are, just human, where he always belonged.

"Don't sell your own happiness just because you're afraid, Deb. We're not like Dad. We're entirely independent people with completely different experiences. You didn't want to be with Anton because he was a CI and accessible. You _want_him for who he is and because he makes you happy.

"I started out with Rita because she was a cover, yes, but it grew into so much more than that. She and I grew into the family I never thought I'd be able to have. One _Harry_thought I'd never be able to have because he thought I was a monster."

Deb's eyes widened as she recalled Dexter's tears as he told her about when he'd tried to do what Harry Morgan had so wanted and take down Juan Rinez and all Harry could see was the monster he'd spent years cultivating. Deb had told Dexter, herself, that he was not Frankenstein and that Harry, like God said, had been wrong. Dexter had mentioned that Frankenstein was the doctor and Deb had punched him in the shoulder, then, as well.

"If you're making a mistake now, Deb, it's believing that you're without forgiveness, that you can't salvage the happiness you had with Anton for what it was: pure, true, contentment that could have grown into complete love...could still...if only you'll let it."

Deb snorted, "Please, Anton's probably had a parade of girls through his bed by now - "

"So?" Dexter asked, taking her by surprise. "You once asked me did my dick dance? But I went back to Rita and she forgave me - one of the things _you_told me to do, I should mention, along with kicking my ass about my doubts regarding being a good father to Harrison. Once we went into couples' therapy, we even began to realize things about each other that never would have occurred to either of us had we just let things fester. She knew I was imperfect, flawed, kept strange hours when she met me...it didn't stop her.

"She told me not long before...before she died that what mattered to her was that the time we did spend together, I made count. It's part of the reason I feel so...empty now. The kids are entirely different. I can make the time I spend with them count because they're easier for me to understand than adults, possibly because part of me is still that boy in my mother's blood. Just three years old."

Deb sniffled, then, her eyes burning as tears began to surge, but she forced herself to listen.

"It's living in the adult world that's always been a challenge for me, always will, because adults have such complicated expectations...but I have to try.

"To give up would be to just sit there, watching Dad puke and tell me to stay away from him over and over and over. Do you want to stay in that hospital room, watching Lundy's body fall dead at Christine Hill's hands, forever?

"Or do you want to try to move on and be with the one person you've _known_ without a doubt has made you happy, completely and utterly, for who you actually _are_?"

"Where the hell do you get this shit?" Deb asked, shoving herself back from the table and putting both her beers in the fridge. "I...well, hopefully, I won't be back until tomorrow morning or something. Dipshit."

Dexter smiled slightly as he watched Deb leave the house for Anton's. Yes, finally doing something again, something _normal_that actually felt right.

_...She's the song that you tried to sing, and the note that you couldn't hit, so you locked her up in a music box and turned the key on all of us..._

**...TBC...**


End file.
